


in the morning light

by queerly_yours



Series: tumblr prompt fills [52]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Sleepy Sex, Stoyd Week, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 12:05:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5126930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerly_yours/pseuds/queerly_yours
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“God, I love you,” she says on a long breath. Her gaze shifts to Stiles, his heavy-lidded eyes struggling to stay open, and grins.</p><p>“What am I? Chopped liver?” he mumbles sleepily, not even bothering to look offended. He just snuggles into the pillow, sweat cooling on his flushed skin, enjoying the warmth and love of his mates.</p><p>“I guess I love you too,” she admits, leaning forward to kiss Stiles’ nose before flopping back down on the bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the morning light

**Author's Note:**

> anonymous and [aisleah](http://kirasmalydia.tumblr.com/) asked for some fluffy stoyden. i dunno if this really qualifies, but it's pretty schmoopy in between the smut. hope you enjoy!

The sun is just coming over the horizon when Boyd wakes, liquid hues of blue melting into daylight through the large, uncovered windows. The dust motes floating through the loft look like glitter in the morning light and he pushes his face further into his pillow, not quite ready to face the day. It dawns on him that it’s only Sunday and a small smile tugs at his lips as he opens one eye to find the back of Stiles’ head merely a few inches from his face. He can see the top of Braeden’s head too, her hair fanned out on the pillow, on the other side of Stiles. Both of them still sound asleep, heart beats slow and even, scents mingled.

He slips his arm over Stiles’ sleeping form, earning a small, annoyed huff from him, and to Braeden’s bare waist. He snuggles in closer to Stiles, sticks his nose in his messy hair, inhaling the _homematehappylove_ scent that pours off him in graceful waves. He could drown in that scent and die happy.

Braeden sighs, shifts closer to Stiles, snaking her arm under the soft covers and over their boyfriend’s side to dance her cold fingertips over Boyd’s taut stomach. He shivers, but stays close, letting her warm them on his side. As a werewolf, he runs warmer, so Stiles and Braeden tend to use him as a space heater – not that he minds.

Last winter, they had lost power during a particularly wicked and unusual ice storm and he wasn’t alone for longer than it took to take a shower, though he can remember that on multiple occasions they shared the small stall in not _just_ showering. There was one memorable night where they broke the shower head. Braeden was riding him as he held her up against the wall, while Stiles fingered him open and sucked a line of hickeys down his back. When he came, he thrust up into Braeden harder than he’d anticipated and she latched onto the old shower head, which tore it right out of the wall. Water poured out of the hole and they’d dissolved into a fit laughter afterwards, Stiles turning bright red and Braeden wheezing.   

With those thoughts, Boyd smiles into Stiles’ hair, sweeps his hands down Braeden’s hip to her thigh. He kneads the supple flesh before pulling it over Stiles’ hip, exposing her and shifting them that much closer together. Her eyes dance with possibility and she grins, grinding on a slowly waking Stiles as Boyd slips his fingers between her thighs and strokes.

Her breath catches as she pushes herself up to meet Boyd for a slow, sultry kiss. Stiles latches onto her breast, making her shudder with need, and she bites at Boyd’s bottom lip, sucking it into her mouth. She breaks the kiss with a pop, laying back down for better access to Stiles’ throat, pressing hot, open-mouth kisses along his jugular. Stiles whines and ruts along her hip, but Boyd stills him as he wraps his wet fingers around his straining cock.

“Boyd,” Stiles exhales, “Fuck.” He wants to move, needs more friction, and just as he thinks he might explode, Boyd lets go. Stiles whines, but Boyd shushes him.

“Condom,” he says and he kisses Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles hears the crinkle of the wrapper as it’s opened before Boyd slides it down his aching cock. Boyd takes his length and runs it along Braeden’s slick entrance, slowly pushing him inside her. They groan in sync, she arches and takes Stiles’ mouth with her own as Stiles rocks into her, each retreat pushing him against Boyd’s hard length. “ _More_ ,” he moans against her lips. “Please, _Vernon_.”

Boyd’s grip tighten on Stiles’ hip. He knows he won’t last much longer, doesn’t have the patience to open Stiles up, so he reaches behind him and grabs the lube from where he laid it when he retrieved the condom. He pours some in his palm to warm and slicks up his cock, slides down a little lower on the bed. He slips between Stiles’ thighs and thrusts, grazing his perineum and balls with each movement.

Stiles gasps, his movements becoming erratic with each passing moment. Boyd mouths at Stiles’ shoulder and slides his hand over to massage Braeden’s sensitive clit, making her jerk and cry out as she comes. As she tightens around Stiles, he shudders and empties himself into the condom.

They pant into each other’s mouths as Boyd thrusts against Stiles once, twice, three times more before spilling between them. “God,” he moans, lapping at the drops of sweat on Stiles’ neck. He jerks as Stiles shimmies back closer to him, overly sensitive, and he nips at Stiles’ ear in retaliation.

Braeden, a little sex dumb and clumsy, reaches for Boyd’s hand. She takes it and kisses his open palm. “God, I love you,” she says on a long breath. Her gaze shifts to Stiles, his heavy-lidded eyes struggling to stay open, and grins.

“What am I? Chopped liver?” he mumbles sleepily, not even bothering to look offended. He just snuggles into the pillow, sweat cooling on his flushed skin, enjoying the warmth and love of his mates.

“I guess I love you too,” she admits, leaning forward to kiss Stiles’ nose before flopping back down on the bed. Boyd chuckles and extricates himself from them. Stiles whines at the cold.

“Just getting a washcloth. Be right back.” He pats Stiles’ ass as he leaves.

When Boyd makes his way back to the bedroom, they’re both asleep, cuddled into one another, foreheads pressed together, and he wonders how he ever got this lucky.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://thegirlwholovedeverything.tumblr.com/)


End file.
